


You can't make happiness/All you can do is make an ending

by HkHk



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fix-It, Groundhog Day, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8551153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HkHk/pseuds/HkHk
Summary: Just once, Lexa thought as she knelt over Clarke's body, just once. She held onto Clarke's hand, whispering a prayer."Please." Clarke just smiles gently even as blood bubbles at the corner of her lips . "Please." Clarke dies. Again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What If](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822532) by [Rheaird_of_Life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheaird_of_Life/pseuds/Rheaird_of_Life). 



> I wanted to make something fluffy and cute and then I made this and I went, okay this works.

It starts with a death as all stories do. Someone dies. Someone mourns. Rewind. Repeat.

* * *

 Lexa teetered, eyes wide, shock fluttering across her system. She had just stormed through the doorway (she heard gunshots and where was Clarke) - Clarke had shoved her. Her hands shot up to catch Clarke, the beginnings of panic growing in her chest, the sudden weight of human body against her own frame causing her to stumble back. Her eyes took in the scene, the near empty room and of Titus and the gun (and a boy tied up in the back). A loud roaring sound began to grow in her ears as she looked down at Clarke. 

"Clarke?" 

She descends slowly, one hand under Clarke's head as she lowers the blonde to the ground. Blood blossomed around the deceptively small wound, sinking into the fabric and onto the ground. Lexa was only vaguely aware of the wetness soaking the fabric of her pants. The only thing she saw was Clarke's bright blue eyes watching hers. Her already pale skin was growing paler and colder. Her blonde hair was a halo against her head. Just hours ago they were in bed together. 

Lexa placed her hand against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Years of killing people and watching people die taught her a lot about how long it takes to bleed a person. Blood pooled on the floor. The bullet had passed through Clarke's body and punctured her superior vena cava. With each heartbeat her blood was being driven out of her body. 

Clarke was dying. 

"Hey beautiful," Clarke whispered a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Saved you." 

Clarke reached out with one hand and Lexa clasped it with her own with a strength that she could barely muster.

Titus crawled to her side painfully aware of how close he was to shooting her. "Get the healers." Lexa snapped out, tightness growing in her chest as she picked Clarke up. 

Together they carried Clarke to the bed. Lexa remained by Clarke's side as Titus ran off to do as she commanded. She was aware of Murphy, the boy that Titus tied up, and his presence. 

"Clarke," He sounded as distressed as she felt. 

"If you cannot help, do not get in the way." 

In the corner of her eye, she saw Murphy flinch and back off. 

"Don't be mean." Clarke muttered, even as she lied there dying, she still had the strength to admonish Lexa. "It's going to be okay." 

Lexa griped Clarke's hand even tighter. 

When Costia's head was delivered to her all she felt as if a winter wind had chilled her soul. But this was a different type of cold. It was the mask of Heda sliding over her features to safeguard her heart. 

No. 

Clarke deserved more than the impassive face of Heda to watch over her as she passes. 

Lexa kom Trikru holds Clarke's hand, head bowed, and bears witness to the passing of her love.

"Don-" Clarke coughs and sputters, her grips spasms. "Ai hod yu in." 

"I love you." Lexa whispers back even as Clarke's lips slacken, her chest stops moving and her eyes lose focus. A last breath, a rattling of air through an empty body as the spirit passes on. "May we meet again." 

Lexa closes Clarke's eyelids over unseeing eyes, streaks of dried blood leaving a trail on her face. She places a kiss against Clarke's forehead. 

"You really loved her." Said Murphy from where he stood. "I'm sorry." 

 

* * *

 Dealing with Titus was relatively easy. He told her what he had done. What he succeeded in doing. Killing Clarke. His position as Fleimkepa protected him from death but not her wraith. She could not look at him without anger and thusly sent him away to deal with other matters. She could not kill him no matter how satisfying it would be. It was not his fault entirely. He had tried to protect her. Like Gustus had. 

Gustus had looked her in the eyes when she killed him. She knew of his love for her. 

Unlike Gustus, Titus had been relatively discrete and did not force her hand. Would it burn her as much if she were to kill Titus as well? Would it hurt as much? Lexa wasn't sure if she wanted to find out. Feeding her rage would only leave her with an emptiness and another dead body. Besides, Titus was in many ways more important than her. He was Fleimkepa. If she were to pass, he would be the one tasked to guide the next Commander. 

When she lost Costia it felt as if the world had dropped from under her. She recovered. She continued on. She forced Nia to be part of her conclave. She made peace. 

Then the sky fell down and death came with it. 

She lost more people in one engagement than she had before. Three hundred warriors burned alive. Her people. 

Anya died without a body to be properly sent to the spirits. 

But she would be remiss in acknowledging that victory came as well. The acid fog defeated, the Mountain destroyed and the 13th clan joined her conclave.

She also killed Nia. She would savor that moment, the death of Nia by her hand. A pity she could not just have slit the queen's throat with a blade and watch her drown in her own blood. Her death was a long time coming. With her reputation backing her, there was little anyone could say against Heda. 

Despite that, life has found a way to slap her across the face and remind her that it is not kind. That life's gifts can be easily taken back. 

She was Heda and her life was not her own. It belonged to her people. It belonged to the clans. And now, to Clarke's people as well. 

Clarke could have asked her anything on her death bed yet she did not. She had simply stared at Lexa with love. As if Lexa was an empty vessel meant to be filled.

Perhaps she was.

* * *

Her handmaidens had done well in preparing Clarke's body for the funeral pyre. They had weaved her hair and adorned it with a crown of flowers. They had painted her face erasing away the dark circles around her eyes and the sallowness of her cheeks. Someone had fixed Clarke's clothes and washed out the blood. With her hands crossed, a bundle of flowers hiding the wound, Clarke looked as if she just needed a kiss to wake up.

 A princess caught in a spell waiting for her hero. 

"Lexa." Abby Griffin arrived her eyes rimmed red with grief. "Commander." 

Abby walked past her and towards the funeral pyre. It was regrettable that it took so long to send a message and longer for her to arrive. Behind her, Clarke's friends hovered as they too joined Abby. The Skaikru had their own funeral rites and Lexa feels unwanted. She lingers in the shadows, arms wrapped around her torso, keeping watch. It was the duty of the family to watch the body in case spirits were to possess it and animate the corpse. 

Save for Lexa, there was no one else to do the deed. 

Fatigue digs into Lexa's bones. The mourning process had began to take its toll. This was the first time she had allowed herself to fully exercise the funeral rites. Gustus died a traitor. Anya vanished into the mists with only a lock of her hair to mark her existence. Costia had been sent to her as a trophy. There were no rites to cleanse the desecration that Nia had inflicted upon her spirit. 

Lexa places the first burning torch against the wound and watches as the kindling catches. She was Heda and it was her right. She was Lexa and she loved Clarke. 

* * *

Later, Abby finds her and confronts her in a dark corner. 

Lexa waits for accusations. She waits for anger. She waits for blame. She waits for all the words she had said to herself to come to life from another person's mouth. But there is only silence. 

Abby looks at her and sees something that stops her from speaking. Weariness flutters across her face and she deflates, looking as tired as a mother would be after the funeral of her only daughter. 

Octavia finds her next. She is polite, murmuring a quick 'Heda' before speaking. "I heard from Murphy what happened." 

Lexa waits for the demand of blood for blood as is the Grounder way.

_Jus drein jus daun_

Octavia was one of the Skaikru first before she become on of the Trikru. 

"For what it's worth, I'm glad Clarke found someone. She deserved it. After all the shit that happened and- " Octavia scowls at the ground. "You deserve it too, Heda."

* * *

Lexa crawls into her bed and tries to sleep. The funeral had taken more out of her than she expected. The sun had long set and only  her candles gives off a soft glow that had once been comforting. Costia had taught her how to make candles one summer afternoon. She could have opened her own business making candles Costia had joked. If only she was not a natblinda if may have been possible. 

She falls into an easy sleep and dreams of Clarke. 

* * *

 The sun peaks past the curtains and it rouses Lexa. She does not wish to move. But she does. Her people will not wait for her. She is Heda. Life continues. 

_Stedaunon don gon we; kikon ste enti._

She hears rustling and her sleepiness vanishes in a flash. A flush of anger flares in her body. _Who would dare attempt-_  

"Lexa, what's wrong?" 

Lexa turns and stares unabashedly at- 

"Clarke?" 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the true spirit of groundhog day, Lexa gets to relieve the day Clarke dies.

It was impossible. Lexa stared as she took in the beauty that was Clarke. She felt her chest tighten with a mix of emotions she could not care to name. Was this madness? The days after Costia's death were difficult. Her ghost remained, her voice a whisper in the wind and it took time for Lexa to banish all traces of Costia from her being. She placed what remained of Costia physically in a box, her favorite scarf, a flower that she particularly enjoyed and put it away. It was a blessing that Clarke left nothing behind but her smile and the way she would look at Lexa. 

The same way she was looking at Lexa now warmth spilling from her eyes, the relaxed shoulders, the way her eyes swept over Lexa's form.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," said Clarke, looking Lexa over. "Or had a nightmare." 

She could not help it. Clarke was dead. The utter stillness of her spirit leaving her body was something Lexa could not forget, would not forget. 

"Lexa?" 

"Yes?" 

"Is everything alright?" Clarke had moved closer to her with concern in her eyes. "You never spaced out like this before." 

"Space out?" 

"The lights on but no one's home." 

Lexa just gave Clarke a puzzled look. 

"Never mind." 

Instead of wondering what exactly Clarke was talking about, there were times when Clarke says things that simply do not make any sense, Lexa gets up. She is not unaware of Clarke's appreciative gaze. Perhaps it would not be a terrible thing to stay in bed. Perhaps she had experienced a very vivid very terrifying nightmare. Or maybe this was her second chance to be with Clarke. She could figure this out a later time, now she will enjoy the one thing that she could have. The one person she could keep. It is with that thought in her head when she climbs back in bed. 

Clarke raises an eyebrow at her. "Lexa?" 

Lexa silences any protests with a kiss. 

* * *

 

Leaving Clarke in her room was the best option. If this is real and Clarke dies later in the day, then she will make sure Clarke will not die. If she must lock Clarke into her room, so be it. She will keep Titus away from Clarke and most importantly, deal with Titus. She has had too many people in her life make decisions in an attempt to protect her. 

She would not suffer yet another death on her behalf. 

Especially one she could prevent. 

Were she able, she would have wound back time to save all the ones she had held close to her heart. Before she had dreamed of saving Costia, of spearing Nia where she stood, all impossible things that made her heart ache less painfully. Those were dreams, wisps of desires and wants that she could never voice. What use was dreaming of what cannot happen? Costia is dead. The Coalition remained despite Nia's attempts at sabotage. 

If only she could go back and shake Gustus fiercely for even thinking that Clarke was any threat to her. 

She could, however, shake Titus silly. 

Which she did and not at all gently. She gripped his clothes and dragged him down to her level. "Do not lie to me. Do you intend to kill Clarke?" 

She gives a good shake, the muscles in her forearm standing out. She did not want to hurt him. He had guided her and despite his intentions, his goal was the welfare of their people. It was the one thing they shared. 

" _Heda._ " 

"Titus." Lexa grounds out. "Tell me the truth." 

The man searches for face and deflates under her grip. "It is true, Heda." 

"Why." 

"This is why. Don't you see it? She is a distraction. At best she is blind and sympathetic to her people, at worst she is a spy that wishes to destroy everything you have built. Do you not see it? You continue to let her walk around unguarded." The strength of his outrage fades and in its place is a tired old man. "I am worried for you, Heda." 

"I will be fine. Have I not proved that?" She had remained as everyone else died. "Clarke is not the problem." 

"Is she not?" Titus asks and he simply waits. He waits for her to examine the situation she has placed herself in. It takes only a few minutes for Lexa to realize the answer. 

"Do not harm her. Promise me." 

"It is already too late." 

She finds Clarke in their bed, her throat cut. 

Losing Clarke was difficult the first time, more so the second. 

* * *

Lexa is ready this time. 

She climbs out of the bed and pulls her clothes on. 

She leaves.

 

 


End file.
